


Histrion

by sunflowerbright



Series: Day by Drabble [10]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-16
Updated: 2013-02-16
Packaged: 2017-11-29 12:05:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/686761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflowerbright/pseuds/sunflowerbright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you've lost your whole life to a game, it is not a hard decision to volunteer for another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Histrion

**Author's Note:**

> April Showers Prompt 17
> 
> So, I had a bit o' trouble with this prompt and I decided that instead of focusing on the picture as a whole, I've focused on the outstretched hand and the colour of the... is it eggs? Also, 'histrion' or 'histrionic' is a real term; in ancient Rome it meant; 'a poor (bad) actor' or 'a jester'. The term has changed in modern times however - feel free to interpret both meanings into the text as you wish.

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/mrstater/pic/001y7aew/)

_Histrion: A player or a willing participant._

 

 

Its fine, Finnick realizes, as long as the things he does or says doesn’t remind Annie too much of the Games. If he keeps to that, she doesn’t… disappear. She doesn’t change into this scared, timid girl who either cowers her ears and mumbles about screams, or claws at her arms, face, hair, anything to _get the blood off!_

Finnick thinks he would rather go through the Hunger Games one more time, than watch her fall apart like that. But he has to, day in and day out, until he’s figured what makes the clock work, what can be done around her and what absolutely can’t.

If he smiles at her, for example, he’s granted with a blush and a sparkle in her eyes, those gorgeous blue orbs, that tells him of the girl she used to be. If he sits quietly besides her, he can feel her gaze upon him and when he finally musters enough courage to gently put his arms around her shoulders, she leans into him like it’s the most natural thing she’s ever done. It’s all he can do not to start giggling like a madman.

But it’s always temporary. It _will_ always be temporary, he knows, because every year at the Reaping and in those dreadful weeks following, she is so completely lost to him. She won’t look him in the eyes, won’t talk to him, she just sits there and shakes like a leaf in the wind.

Finnick has never felt so helpless his entire life. And he hates it, hates himself, hates the Capitol. It’s the final straw, when he takes Annie’s hand in his, not noticing that he’s cut himself on some rope earlier and she screams as she sees the blood.

So it’s an easy decision really, when they seek him out. He’s already made up his mind, the moment the girl – _Mockingjay -_ handed those berries to the boy, her hand trembling slightly _(like Annie, just like his Annie.)_ They watch him with intent eyes and Finnick just smiles, lifting his hand and waving at the crowd.

It’s not fine, Finnick knows, but it will be.


End file.
